Brotherly Blood
by Burning Klouds
Summary: This story follows the life of two characters one by night, one by day. It is an epic tale of a battle between kin. By the end of the night blood will run.
1. Prologue

**Brotherly Blood**

Tom ran through the street his tears mingling with the rain and sweat running down his face. Jet-black hair, muddy and wet was plastered to his head. There was only one thing in his mind now. The thought that his brother, his own loving brother Vincent had betrayed him, he had seen it with his very eyes. In an alley a demon had descended onto Vincent enveloping him with the inky blackness of its cloak, and in that brief moment tom had felt an icy coldness come over him as he never had felt before. He had almost run over to his brother lying bloodied on the floor. If only Vincent hadn't looked up and said those two words that that changed toms life forever

"Thank You."

His brother had thanked this demon for turning him into the one thing tom feared most in the world even more than death, his brother had thanked it for turning him into, a vampire.

**Twenty Years Later**

Tom Adams was lurching around in bed having a terrible nightmare that was the reward for being the worlds most feared and admired demon slayer. Suddenly he sat up a silent scream erupting inside his mind, telling him to run and keep running until he could not run anymore then to turn round and accept his fate. He got out of bed, filled the sink and plunged his head into ice cold water, gradually the voice faded away and he sat down heavily on an ornately carved chair that he had found in an abandoned mansion that had been rumoured to be haunted, but Tom had only gone to have a look around he new it hadn't been haunted because if there were demons or some soul which had unwittingly strayed into this world of disseat and corruption then anyone who set foot in that house, would be dead. The seat had no cushion and had a hard wooden backrest, Tom Adams did not believe in comfort. No one would have believed that this man was the son of Gabriel and Bernard Adams, the people who had given so much to the world they had built hospitals rehabilitation centres saved many a rainforest and would have carried on doing such things if that fateful accident hadn't happened, they had been walking along a path leading to an old house that they had intensions of refurbishing as an old persons home when a stone gargoyle fell from the top of the roof and smashed down onto Gabriel and shortly after Bernard disappeared, everyone thought it was a terrible accident but Tom alone had dared venture up to the old house and examine the place where his mother was killed and found things that made it impossible for it to have been an accident Tom new all to well who or should I say what did this terrible deed, it was the very same demon who had helped his brother betray him exactly twenty years earlier. He pushed all these terrible memories aside and got dressed in his usual black tight fitting top and trousers and strapped on the various belts he always wore then on went the weapons, a bottle of holy water, a small stake, a hand mirror, some salt and a string of garlic plus the six millimetre FL magnum pistol for human business the he went over to the door and put on an old and well worn great coat and beret then opened the door and set of into the street.

Vincent Adams was just wiping his mouth on a crisp white handkerchief that matched his face after a drink of fresh MP blood when he noticed the date it was the twentieth anniversary of that night when the demon king had spared his life but turned him into a vampire instead, the night he new his brother was watching and today would bring fresh memories tearing back into his brother who would come searching for, him to kill him but Vincent was not worried, anyway how could a lowly human stand up to a demon of his power. He felt no love for the man who used to be his dearest brother anymore only a faint twinge of pity. He stood up and launched himself of the roof of the apartment block he had been standing on then with only a millimetre to spare from the ground he soared up again but he was no longer a slim tall man but a jet black bat fluttering away into the night and as he did so Vincent thought only one thing "I've never tasted demon slayer before"

Tom was running, ever running this way and that darting in and out of alleys and walkways then he turned down another alley and there it was his worst nightmare, a wall. Slowly he turned his head and there was a voice.

"Hello brother"

"Where are you, show yourself!" Tom shouted into the blackness "come out!"

"Are you sure" came the icy reply that sent shivers down his spine "are you sure you want to see what your brother has become after you left him to be enveloped by the darkness, yes Tom it's all your fault"

"N…no I don't believe you"

"Oh but you do"

"SHUT UP!"

"Your mind and will power is much stronger than I expected"

"Show yourself"

"Well if you insist" and out came a tall figure with white skin and very black shiny eyes, tom shuddered.

"I've been waiting for this moment my entire life Vincent"

"And what moment would that be"

"The moment to kill you because you betrayed me and turned into the one thing you new I hated most in the world and now it's time to die"

"Do your worst" Vincent sneered, then in one lightning swift movement Tom whipped out the garlic and hurled it at the vampire it merely bounced of his shoulder and landed on the floor Vincent looked down at it and raised an eyebrow.

"When did you come up with that idea brother?" then with another movement Tom whipped out the bottle of holy water uncorked it and sloshed it into Vincent's face, an unearthly scream resounded around the alley and when Vincent lowered his hands Tom saw that his face was bubbling and disfigured.

"For that, you will pay" Vincent said calmly, then launched himself upon Tom but this wouldn't be a bite that would turn him into a vampire. Then finally Vincent finally sunk his teeth into the neck of his scrabbling sibling. Then he stood up looking over the disfigured corpse of his one live brother and said to himself as he turned away "A life time of hunting me down to kill me, and now your dead, was it really worth it brother. Wasting a lifetime for revenge?"


	2. Chapter 1

It was the year 1989, and Tom Adams was celebrating his 19th birthday, well it wasn't much of a celebration alone in his 2 room flat a glass of grapefruit juice in his right hand, sitting on a very old rickety arm chair that could fall apart at any moment. In his left hand he held a letter from the prime minister himself asking for his assistance. The letter was Hand Written in pitch black ink without a smudge or mark anywhere, the paper was tinged slightly pink and had the prime ministers coat of arms inscribed in the middle.

"Bloody politics," he said out loud screwing the letter up with no regard to the beauty of it.

He got up and drained his half finished glass in one then picked up his beret and great coat, strapped his two belts on, one on his left leg and one around his waist. Then he hooked his brown leather holster onto the inside of his great coat and put his pistol in it, he liked to keep it close to his heart. Then he strapped three small bottles of blessed water onto his waist belt and another bottle of grapefruit juice (Tom didn't drink alcohol, it dulls the brain). Then, went on the five knives onto his leg belt and a bulb of garlic. He then walked over to a chest of draws and opened the bottom draw in which was a box of small proportions, it was black with one single painted rose on the top and the stem creeping around the sides and bottom. Inside the box was a crucifix, he stood and admired it's beauty even though he saw it every day of his life, it was mainly white in colour but with a line of red and green stones down the centre, they were only semi-precious stones but it was topped with a huge dark red ruby in the centre of the cross. He picked it up and stowed it away in his great coat, then he closed the lid of the box and closed the draw.

He stepped outside and breathed in the fresh air, when his lungs where at their full capacity he held his breath and waited, then when he could stand it no more he let it all out slowly, he did this every time he stepped outside, he didn't really know why he just did it was something to do with savouring what could be his last day out.

He started walking fairly slowly, there was no reason to rush, he took his normal 15-minute walk along the river bow to his favourite florist. The shop was green underneath the countless bunches of flowers and hanging baskets that lined the wall, there where chrysanthemums, roses, daffodils, lavender, and all means of other flowers.

The inside of the shop was even more colourful than outside the counter was lined with lavender and even the till had some roses on it. A little old man came out of the back room and stood at the counter, he had an old weather beaten face, but it was not withered it was full of life and Tom could tell that under the old skin was the mind of a young free child, he could tell that the man was longing for the chance to be able to run around and play and go to parties and it was destroying him. Tom's only strong belief was that all misery came from desire.

"How may I help you Tom?" started the old man

"I would like to purchase my usual please Tony,"

"Now," he paused for thought "that's ten chrysanthemums isn't it? Five reds and five pinks?" He struggled to remember Tom's weekly purchase.

"Come on Tony, he orders that every day," An old lady walked into the room, she punched Tony lightly on the shoulder, she was smiling, she always smiled Tom Couldn't think of a time when she wasn't smiling.

"Don't worry Janet I don't mind," Tom directed his speech to the old lady. Tony rapped the flowers in the usual plain brown paper, the paper reminded him of the paper in the letter from the prime minister and decided he preferred the brown paper, Tom liked things simple.

"Thank you," Tom said sub-consciously as he took the flowers

"You take care of yourself now, don't go getting yourself killed, or eaten." The comment from the old lady stole Tom away from his trail of thought, he looked and saw Janet grinning mischievously.

"Don't you worry about me I'll be fine." He waved and left the florists.

It was another 10-minute walk to the train station where he caught the 10:30 train to the centre of town. It wasn't a particularly inspiring trip he sat in his usual seat closest to the doors, there was a baby and it's mother, Tom frowned the mother didn't look much older than 17, it made him think of the saying 'young love' more like 'young sex' he thought. He rested his head on the rest and looked up at the long strips of lights shining down their harsh electric white glow onto the seats and the small number of passengers, achieving little in the train that was already lit by sunlight. The baby started to cry and Tom heard the desperate but futile efforts of the (obviously out of her depth) mother to try and stop it. Tom glanced over to look at them and for a moment he saw a flicker of desperate murderous intent in her eyes, and then the look of surprise and disgust at herself about the thoughts that had obviously just run through her head.

The train came to a screeching halt and the doors opened, Tom waited for the mind murdering mother to wheel the pram off the train, she muttered a hardly audible sorry to him but he couldn't be sure whether it was just a cough. He stepped down off the train and immediately noticed the tacky fake flower display, curled around the pillars holding up the rain cover over the platform, he noticed them every time he walked off the train and he loathed them, their fabric petals with either dull muddy colours or florescent horrible colours. He had meant to put in a complaint but had never got round to it. He glanced up into the sky it was a beautiful "sky blue" colour with out a cloud in sight, he frowned, it was going to be a dark night.

Tom walked heavily down the platform stairs and out of the station, he ran his hand along the stations outer wall it was rough and grimy, with age it had engravings carved into it by imbeciles that thought a passer by would be interested if "Jonny waz ere" or that "Kev loves Jan". Tom looked at the floor; it was dotted with the usual spots of chewing gum (probably left there by the same culprits as the wall carvings), he looked up to the heavens a, flock of birds formed a V in the sky and the sun shone behind a light cloud cover. He walked briskly along the lane away from the hustle and bustle that was caused by the stations tight schedule, he took the flowers out from under his coat and straightened them out, he took a sniff, to catch the waft of sweet smelling fragrance that was being whisked away by the early morning breeze, perfect, chrysanthemums had always been Toms favourite flowers, it was the fact that they are small and yet beautiful in their own way, not like roses, he always thought that they were always bustling for attention, if flowers were people roses would be the bullies and chrysanthemums would be the strong, smart and silent type, that would always get verbal abuse but had the aura about it that always said, "get the fuck away from me". He stopped at a small white painted gate at the end of a small white painted fence, the rusted hinge creaked as Tom pushed it open, he felt under his hand the flaking paint as it crumbled and broke off under the pressure. On the other side of the flaky white fence was a small, pretty but solemn graveyard, Tom headed towards a small Rowan tree, or rather to the grave underneath it, he knelt down, and read (for the umpteenth time), the caption on the tombstone, the words carved into the stone were so beaten up by time that it was hard to read but Tom new by heart it said:

R.I.P

_Beatrix Danford Adams_

"_To be at war with your inner demons,_

_Is a terrible thing"_

He stood there, still as the stone gargoyle that fell on top of his mother. Slowly he straightened his legs not taking his eyes off the old stone. He could still hardly believe that his mother was dead. He stood there staring vacantly at the stone for more than 5 minutes, then he tore his eyes off the tomb stone and placed the Chrysanthemums down onto the grave, red ones on the left and pink ones on the right, and murmured.

"Same again mum, but they'll do."

He trudged back through the graveyard, his heart heavy in his chest, he opened the little white gate and set off down the road.


End file.
